Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.

That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.

So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

Shall love be blamed for want of faith?

I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.

I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling.